


Gone Too Far

by Fighting4Fandoms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Abused Dean Winchester, Abusive John Winchester, Child Abuse, Drunk John Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23198299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fighting4Fandoms/pseuds/Fighting4Fandoms
Summary: Sam leaves for Flagstaff and Dean never gets to say goodbye
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 26
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

"This is just fucking like you." John's inebriated voice slurred into Dean's ear. 

Dean had never been this afraid of his own father before and he had been scared of John many times. He was pinned against the wall, John's hand was clamped around Dean's wrist. With a growl, John crushed Dean's wrist. The bone snapped but Dean was too afraid to make a noise. 

Sam had left whilst Dean was taking a shower. By the time Dean had finished Sam was long gone. Dean had prowled the area and there was no sign of his brother. John had returned back to the motel, reeking of vodka. 

Punches were thrown. 

Insults were speared. 

John did not hold back much to Dean's dismay. John let go of Dean's wrist and threw him against the floor. 

"How is it that I'm also stuck with you?" John's voice was toxic as he spoke. He suggested his nails into Dean's neck, not caring if he drew blood. "First your mother, then Sam. Why do I have to have you as a son? Such a fucking disgrace."

Dean bit his bottom lip, trying not to scream. 

John took his other hand and drove his knuckles into Dean's face. He didn't hear Dean's jaw break. Blood splattered out of Dean's mouth and sprayed across John's face which only angered him more. 

"Hold still you prick." 

John battered Dean's face, swapping hands when the other grew tired. Years of unspent rage flooded out and was taken out on his loyal boy, the one who stood by him for years. 

Eventually, John clambered to his feet. Dean laid on the ground, too injured and tired to do anything. John's vision was blurred and he stamped against Dean's hand, cracking it instantly. 

Dean would've waited for John to leave before he moved but John never left the room and Dean's heart fell out of his chest when he felt John's steel toe capped boot slammed into his chest and ribs. Dean's head snapped back as his ribs broke. Dean tried to curl into himself but John grabbed a hold of him. 

He sobbed as he was dragged across the floor. John grabbed a hold on Dean's hair and slammed his head into the sink of the motel bathroom. A deep gash grew on Dean's head as his eyes rolled back into his skull. Despite being blacked out, John didn't know and carried on. He slammed his head three times into the sink and dropped him against the floor. 

Dean collapsed tirelessly into the ground. Landing on the floor with a THUD, John grimaced at the clump. John had gone completely delusional and in front of him wasn't his son but was a demon instead. 

The same demon that killed Mary. 

If the head injury didn't kill Dean, the bullet did. John fired the gun and the bullet soared right into Dean's stomach. John growled at the body and locked the door to the bathroom. 


	2. A Big Mistake

The next morning John woke up with a raging headache but there was also a deep sense of guilt that was pooling in the bottom of his stomach. 

He sat on the bed with uosnueads on his hands. Images of the previous night flew into his mind. Blood onto he floor and the walls. He put his hand on his head and stood up.

He remembered shouting at his eldest for something. 

He then remembered why he had been shouting at him. 

Sam had left. 

And he had blamed Dean. 

John came to a horrible realization that throughout his whole life, Dean had been blamed for a lot of things throughout his life. 

_Dean was 5 the first time John laid a hand on him._

_They were in a crappy motel and Sam couldn't stop crying. John was slowly losing his patience._

_"Dean. Get him to stop crying."_

_"I'm trying, Daddy." Dean was scared. Over the past few days, John was slowly getting angrier._

_Five minutes had passed, Sam was still crying. Dean was cautious as John tended up. Dean put Sam on the bed and put a blanket over him. He didn't even notice John stand up. John grabbed the little arm and shook him._

_"When I say to calm him down, what the fuck am i saying, Dean?!"_

_Dean couldn't help but burst out crying which only made John angrier._

_He didn't even resist it. John raised his hand and slapped Dean across the face. Dean wasn't crying anymore but just stared at his father._

_John dropped him onto the hard floor with a hard look on his face._

_He put his hand over his face and watches as Dean clambered to his feet, the red mark stared accusingly at him._

_"I'm sorry." Dean whispered. The little boy climbed onto the bed and made sure that his little brother had stopped crying._

_"He's not crying anymore." Dean was too afraid to look at him. He laid on his side and closed his eyes to go sleep._

_John was frozen in his place at that moment and watched as his eldest son fell asleep almost instantly. He didn't know why he hit him. It didn't feel great but it relieved some of the tension._

_Another time John hit Dean was when Dean was 13._

_John believed that Dean had stolen some money in order to buy food for him and Sam._

_"What the fuck?" John grabbed Dean by his ear. "You're a piece of shit, you know that?"_

_Dean nodded, "I didn't-"_

_John pushed Dean into the wall, "don't fucking lie to me."_

_Dean was dazed for a moment. Getting to his knees, Dean felt a line of blood on his head. He didn't have time to react because John pulled him up by his shirt._

_"You ever pull shit like this again-"_

_Dean looked at his father and knew that he was never going to believe him. Never._

_John stopped when he heard the front door._

_"Your brother is home."_

_"Dad!" Sam shouted. "I had to borrow some money from your wallet but I've got the change."_

_John dropped Dean to the floor when he heard Sam say that. John looked to the door then to the pile that was his son. John sighed and tensed up. He hated feeling guilty about shit like this._

_"Get washed."_

_"Yes, sir." Dean mumbled._

John knocked on the bathroom door when he finally had the courage to talk to Dean. 

"Open up, Dean." 

He knocked on the door a few more times but eventually he got tired. The rage built up inside him once more. 

"Fucking answer me when I'm talking to you."

John kicked down the door and felt his heart break at the sight. 

"Fuck!" John gasped. 

He crashed down on the floor beside his defeated son. He did something that he hadn't done in a long time. He pulled up his boy and held him close to him. He couldn't hear Dean breathe. He was cold. 

"Oh Dean." John cradled his bloodied, broken boy. He remembered every word and every punch he had ever thrown at him. He looked down at the red patch on Dean's stomach and saw the bullet wound. He could see the dent in his son's forehead. He turned to see the cracked mirror and sink and felt sick to his stomach. 

There was so much blood on Dean and in the bathroom and it reminded him of the last time he had lost control with him.


	3. Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to a horrifying night.

It had been drilled into Dean's head from a very early age that he had a huge responsibility to his younger brother. He knew that and took that job in stride. One night, when Sam was asleep, Dean stepped out for a mere second to catch his breath but a lot can change in a matter of seconds. 

To this day, he can't quite fully remember the details of the evening. Scrambled images often plagued his mind, his dad towering over him for one. For as long as he could remember, Dean had bruises over his skin. The kind that never seem to go away. Dean couldn't really remember the last time he had been happy, the last time he had a full stomach, the last time he felt a touch on him that wasn't in anger. 

When Dean woke back up, he was lying face down on his bed, his vision was blurred and he could barely breathe. He noticed that he was in the second bedroom, in his dad's bed and not in the other. He tired to pull himself up but his arms trembled so violently that they failed and Dean was back on his face. 

He could only see the blurred lines and in the background, beside the door, his father stood there, guilt coursing through his veins. The indents of his knuckles had dried blood painted over the skin, peeling away. John grumbled something under his breath then turned away, hearing Dean struggle to even move was the stick that broke the camel's back to usher John out of the room. Rather than looking at his mistakes, he looked at what Dean failed to do. Sam could've been taken because of Dean. Yeah, he wasn't at fault. 

Yet, something was telling him that it was. The more rational part of him was whispering in the back of his mind, telling him that what he had done was unforgivable. 

He looked back over his shoulder and just by looking at Dean he could see what he had done, his eyes tilted to the discard belt and clothes on the floor. 

_"You're a fucking disgrace."_

John closed his eyes, swallowing down the bile. 

_"How could you do this to me?"_

_"Take it like a damn man, Dean!"_

John looked down at his hands, at the marks the belt had left from gripping it too hard.

"Dad?" Sam was standing behind him, John pushed him gently back out of the room before he saw his brother. Sam was so small, his curls standing on his head. "Where's Dean?" 

"Asleep, son." 

"Can I wake him up?" 

John bit his lip, he was about to open his mouth when there was a knock at the door. Fuck. Sam jumped back as John stormed passed him to peer through the peephole. Fuck. Fuck. It was Bobby. 

"You in there?" Bobby's gruff voice could be heard. 

"Hold on," John grumbled, he opened the door and saw the bag of food that he was holding, his stomach moaned in response. 

"I've been tryin' to ring you." Bobby shrugged, "Where's Dean at?"   
"He's sleeping, Uncle Bobby?" 

"Sleepin' huh?" Bobby eyed John, he was unconvinced, John never let the boys sleep in. A horrible thought crossed his mind. He put the food on the table and ruffled Sam's hair as he headed over to the bedroom door. 

John moved to stand in front of the door, "Can I help you?" 

"Let me past, John." 

John stood his ground, even when Bobby pushed him out of the way. 

"If you've done what I think you've done-" Bobby reached for the handle, dodging John's attempt to stop him. 

Bobby cursed under his breath when he saw Dean. 

"What the hell happened?" He said darkly, already knowing the answer. He prepared himself to hear John's half-assed attempts to come up with an excuse. Bobby heard enough and went passed John to head for Dean, he swore again when he saw the contrusions on Dean's back. 

"You are a bastard." Bobby glared at him, he reached for a blanket and put it around Dean. 

"Get off my son." 

"Son?" Bobby scoffed, trying to keep his cool as he put Dean into his arms. "Like you know the damn meanin' of the word."


	4. The Angel Looking Over Your Shoulder

A sharp gasp and eyes snapping open, Dean shot up in his bed, his chest bare. He sighed and covered his face with his hands, bringing his knees up to his chest. He looked to his side and saw Cas sitting beside him, he gently put a hand on his shoulder. 

"You're safe, you're here." 

"Shit." Dean rubbed the sweat off his forehead, he gently laid back down, his head against a pile of pillows. He stared up at the ceiling, emotion completely vacant from his pale face. 

Cas was leaning on his side, stroking the hair on Dean's face back, "Where were you?" 

"Erm, that motel that we were in when Sam ran to Stanford." 

"He's here, Dean. No one's going to hurt him. Or you." 

Dean smiled gently and closed his eyes for a moment. Only a mere moment mind otherwise he'd be back in that bathroom. He didn't want to be back there, not again. Cas put a hand against Dean's cheek, Dean put his hand on top. 

"Why did you bring me back from there?" Dean asked, looking up at him. "You didn't have to. You could've just let me die." 

"I wouldn't do that." 

"You didn't know me, then." 

"True." Cas nodded, "But I suppose I knew who you'd be." 

Dean's lip trembled for a moment before he looked back up at the ceiling, watching the shoddy wallpaper begin to peel off. They had been in his bedroom for a couple of hours, he managed to sleep for one before waking up, gasping. Cas didn't need to sleep, he never did, but Dean felt comfort knowing that Cas would still lie down against him. He felt Cas' arms snake around his back. 

"I know he's gone but I still know that Sam has no fuckin' clue." 

"Should you tell him?" 

Dean shook his head and Cas didn't push the matter. 

"I don't want him to think about the old man like that. Even if it's the truth." 

"Truth hurts." 

Dean sadly smiled, "I'd rather hear the painful truth than a sweet lie." 

Cas put his arms around Dean and pulled him up against his chest, Dean sighed happily but it took him a while to fall back asleep. 


End file.
